Page 13 of Liam

Asshole.

“Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair,” I tell him, not waiting for a response before making my way to the back room. I set myself up for the day while the twins’ hushed voices filter through the open door. I don’t pay them much attention until one ofthem yells, “What’s up, guys! We’re back!” I assume it’s a well-rehearsed intro into one of their videos, though I don’t care enough to find out.

“What the fuck?” Lincoln yells, and I know it’s Lincoln because he’s always been the loud one. The outspoken one. I guess that’s what happens when you have to speak for two.

I sit taller, suddenly curious about Liam’s response. “I’m done for today,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

Liam doesn’t raise his voice, just stays stoic and calm. “I don’t want to do this right now.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Lincoln argues. “I had plans with Julie today.Youwere the one who wanted to block out this time.”

“Fuck off!” Liam snaps.Finally. “Just call her and tell her. She won’t care.”

There’s a beat of silence before a door slams shut, and for a long moment, I stay still, listening. I expect another door to close, or signs of movement, or… anything. Nothing comes. And so I carefully step out into the hallway, creeping my way toward the living room. Liam is still there, sitting on the couch, facing the cameras. His body remains still, but his eyes… His eyes slowly find mine.

I suck in a breath, release it slowly. Guilt nips at my insides, and I lower my stare. “Did I ruin your flow or something?”

“Yeah, you did,” he huffs, standing to full height. He walks toward me, mumbling, “I thought I told you to stay the fuck out of my way.”

That guilt I’d felt? Completely gone and immediately replaced with anger.Who the fuck does this guy think he is?Before I can retort, he’s pushing past me and toward the front door, and I almost recoil at the loudness of the door slamming shut between us.

“Fucking asshole,” I mutter under my breath. My rage simmers just beneath the surface as I force myself to get to work. The quicker I get this shit done, the sooner I’ll never have to see his stupid face again.

An hour passes before the door opens again, but I don’t bother checking who it is. I keep my head down and do what I need to pass the time. It only lasts a few minutes beforedrillingbegins. Rolling my eyes, I give up on work and leave the office. Liam is… hanging curtains. I assume to block my view of the living room should I arrive unexpectedly again. It’s kind of ridiculous considering his family’s in construction. Surely they could hang some doors. Clearly, this petty little act of his is less functional than it is a message.

I cross my arms as I watch him set the rod in place. “Really?” I ask, then drop my hands to my sides. “Honestly, asshole, I don’t know why you’re holding on to so much anger toward me. I’m the one who should be pissed at you.”

“Still with the name-calling,” he mutters. Then he turns to me, his giant frame closing in. “And what the fuck did I ever do to you?”

There’s no way he would’ve forgotten. I sure haven’t. But since he asked… “You told the cops where I was hiding that night!”

His face falls… while my anger rises. For years, I’ve held on to this animosity toward the boy in front of me, and I don’t know how I’ve kept it locked away until now. When I saw him again, almost exactly where we stand, the first thing I wanted to do was kick him. The second is what I’m about to do—let him knowexactlyhow I feel about him. “You led them right to me!” I yell, trying to hide my emotions. But it doesn’t work. A knot forms in my throat, comes out in the wavering of my voice. Still, I raise my chin, attempt to show an iota of strength, all while I crumble inside. “You have no idea what I went through that night! Youdon’t know what it’s like to be grabbed, thrown to the ground, andhandcuffed.” A single tear breaks through, and I’m quick to swipe it away. I haven’t spoken about that night since…. ever.But if anyone’s deserving of a retelling, it’s the one person who made it happen. “They threw me in the back of a squad car as if my life meant nothing. As ifImeant nothing!” I lock my eyes on his, so he understands the weight of what I say next. “Youdid that!” I stab a finger into his chest, determined to hurt him the way he hurt me. “Youripped me away from the only family I have! And I hope you live the rest of your fucking life knowing how badly youbrokeme!”

I can barely breathe after my outburst, let alone inhale the same air as Liam fucking Preston, so I grab my shit and leave. As soon as I’m out of the house, I send Roman a text telling him not to pick me up like we’d originally planned, then call Wyatt.

He takes approximately six minutes to pull into the cabin’s driveway, and I spend those six minutes making sure my tears are dry and my voice is even so he doesn’t pick up on my emotional state.

He does anyway. “You good?” is the first thing he asks when I get in his truck.

I make a pointed effort to stare out the window so he doesn’t see my face. “Yeah.”

He sighs, waits a beat before mumbling, “You still suck at lying, Addie.”

We don’t speak another word as we drive to Main Street, where he tells me to wait in the truck while he goes into the grocery store. He returns only minutes later with a full bag andthrows it in the back seat before I can see what’s inside, and then we’re off again.

I should probably ask where he’s taking me, but the answer wouldn’t change anything.

We pull up to the closed gates of a private residential area, where he enters a code into the panel of the security gate and waits patiently for the iron bars to spread so he can drive through. Wyatt still lives at home with his parents, on what assholes like Liam would refer to as thebadside of town. The only reason he has access to this neighborhood is because he’s messing with some lonely housewife who lives here.

He takes us to an undeveloped piece of land that overlooks the town below it and reverses to the edge. After he grabs the bag from the back, we hop out and meet at the tailgate. I assume we’re just going to sit and talk, but instead, he grabs a golf club from the bed and hands it to me. I look down at the club, then back at him. He remains silent as he pulls a backpack toward him and unzips it to show me the golf balls in there, then motions over the cliff edge.

“One,” I say. “Did you steal these?”

Wyatt works at a golf course a town over and spends his days serving the elite while cursing them behind their backs. “Of course.”

I nod. “Two. I don’t golf.”

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